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CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Treville sprang into action, waving Aramis across.
"That didn't sound good," Aramis confided, out of earshot of the King, who was now pushing himself back into his throne, his arms wrapped around himself.
"I'll get the King to his rooms!" Treville said, taking Aramis's arm as his soldier ran forward.
"The Queen?" Aramis said, tersely.
"Leave that to me," Treville replied. "At least her rooms are in another wing. Get word to me when you can."
Aramis nodded as Treville turned to d'Artagnan and Porthos and waved them to the outer rooms to investigate, before turning back to Aramis.
"What about Athos," Aramis whispered, "The Comte?" he added, pointedly.
"Keep him with you," Treville said, urgently, as the King leapt off the dais and approached them.
"Treville?" he asked, querulously.
"Calm, Sire, your Musketeers will investigate," he replied. "In the meantime, I will escort you to your rooms," he added, as he ushered Louis out through a door at the other side of the room.
Aramis came to a stop in front of Athos, who had kept out of the way as the Musketeers swung into action.
"You'd better come with me, Comte," he said and together, they followed in d'Artagnan's and Porthos's wake.
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A little earlier:
Milady looked down at the body at her feet.
Couldn't he have died quietly, damn him!
She had watched from her apartments as Dubois dispersed four men into the palace.
So, he had not waited for her to return. Well, at least she wouldn't have to engage him with subterfuge any longer, which was so infuriatingly exhausting.
Their disguises were sound; no one looked twice at them. Secreting her weapons about her she had made her way down to intercept the one who entered the building below her. She would find the others once she had dealt with him. There would be no finesse in this. No time to hide bodies. She just needed to eliminate the threat to her.
This one had come a little too close for comfort by the time she had reached him and she had quickly despatched him, leaving him lying in a pool of his own blood before she disappeared into a hidden door in an adjoining room, which led to a veritable warren of secret passageways.
They would soon find this body and hopefully, they would tie themselves in knots attempting to figure out what was going on.
In the meantime, she would do what she had to do.
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It had taken Milady two whole days to explore the vast warren behind the walls of the Louvre.
She had straightened a mirror in a small dressing room in her early acquaintance with the palace, only for a hidden door to silently click open. That had been the start of it.
Some passageways were wide, some very narrow, requiring her to wrap her skirts tightly around her legs to keep them from damage. There were hundreds of cobwebs. She was obviously the first person to walk them in a long time. At various intervals, faint shafts of twin light fell from the walls to the floor of the passageway. When she stood on tip toe, she could see into the room beyond. No doubt on the other side of the wall were paintings, their eyes pierced to all the voyeur a good view! That had amused her no end.
She had wondered if Richelieu knew about the passageways, or at least the extent of them. Strange he had not mentioned them - but then, he would wish them to remain his secret, no doubt. From what she had heard of Marie de Medici, she could also see her hand in this.
She was in her element that first day.
The passages had obviously been constructed over time. Whoever had constructed them were no doubt long dead.
Louis probably knew of some of them, surely. She could imagine him as a boy scampering through them. Or maybe not. He would have been kept on a short lead and she couldn't really imagine him as a reckless, adventurous child. His sojourn to experience the lives of his people had been done with the protection of his four best Musketeers. Hardly risk-taking. And where had that got him! Still, because of his gratitude for what she did that day, she was here, ensconced in the palace. With a little persuasion on her part.
And here she intended to remain.
For that, she needed to find Dubois and his four remaining thugs.
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Porthos and d'Artagnan were ahead, further along on the left side of the corridor, opening doors and searching rooms.
Aramis and Athos began on the right side.
"Where are the guards?" Aramis whispered, as they entered their third room.
Aramis froze in the doorway, his arm thrown out to halt Athos behind him.
There on the floor, was a palace guard, in pool of blood.
"Can you call d'Artagnan and Porthos, Comte," Aramis said.
His friend nodded and quickly moved away, as Aramis walked cautiously forward, his eyes scanning the room for any threat.
Kneeling down, he turned the man over.
There was a gaping slash in his neck. His eyes were open and bulging. Someone had come up behind him and ended his life in a brutal fashion. His eyes tracked down his body, but he had no further wounds.
Just then, he was joined by the others. d'Artagnan and Porthos walked the periphery of the room, opening two other door, which turned out to be cupboards; both empty.
"Well," Aramis said, sitting back on his haunches. "This explains why there are no guards in this wing."
"He's not a palace guard," Porthos said. "Looks more like someone from the Court," he added, grimacing at the sight.
"Exactly," Aramis agreed. "But he would pass for one at a distance. He must have given the real guard cause to go elsewhere."
"Well, once the King is settled, Treville will gather our men and seal off the building," Aramis replied. "So we are at least alone here to investigate at our leisure, gentlemen. So, assassin or opportunist?" he mused.
"Alone or with others?" the Comte added.
Aramis looked up at him and the Comte shrugged.
"Can't be anythin' simple," Porthos grunted. "Never is."
"So, we split up?" d'Artagnan said.
"We do," Aramis sighed. "You and Porthos carry on as you were."
"And you?" Porthos asked, his eyes shifting pointedly from Aramis to the Comte, who was still looking down at the body, an odd frown on his face.
Aramis reached for the dead man's sword and pulled it from its sheath. Not the best, but adequate.
He stood and turned to the Comte.
"Coming?" Aramis grinned, a glint in his eye as he offered the sword to his dear friend.
The Comte stared at him for a moment while Aramis waited, and then the frown disappeared and he grasped the hilt of the sword and gave Aramis that old familiar look of engagement.
"Lead on," he murmured.
"All for one," d'Artagnan said quietly, before they left the dead man and stepped back into the corridor.
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In the passageway, Milady turned back, hearing voices.
They were coming her way.
One voice in particular, she recognised. Porthos.
Musketeers - always where they shouldn't be, she sneered.
She stepped back into the room and wiped the blade on a brocade curtain before slipping it back in her skirt. She crossed the room and opened the door enough for her to peer through.
In the corridor outside, d'Artagnan and Porthos were searching rooms. Each time they emerged, she ducked back out of sight. Finally, they separated and each advanced down different corridors, away from her.
As she turned to go, she heard Aramis's voice, sending someone in her direction.
It could only be Athos.
Her heart skipped a beat, Treville's warning ringing in her ears.
Turning back into the room with the intend of slipping away into the hidden passageway to make her escape, she risked one last look through the door.
She froze when she saw another assailant appear and head in the direction she knew Athos was coming.
She withdrew the blade once more.
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The Comte turned the corner in time to see a man slide down the wall.
A quick assessment told him he could do nothing for the man, who had died in similar fashion to the other intruder.
Ahead, a door stood ajar and he tightened his grip on his sword and ran toward it, just in time to see a red skirt disappear through a door, apparently hidden in the wall. What intrigue was this?
Ever cautious, his shoulder beginning to complain, he crossed the room and caught the door before it fully closed.
With no time to lose, and without waiting for Aramis, he went in pursuit.
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She could hear his footsteps behind her, as she ran. It gave her a thrill that he was so close behind her but Treville's threat echoed in her head. He would give her up in an instant to the King if she went against his command.
Her instinct to save Athos's life was borne out of self preservation. At least that is what she told herself. Turning in the dim narrow passage, she quickly found a door that would lead her to the hallway and out into the rear courtyard.
Pushing against the door she stepped hurriedly out, only to come face to face with a large bulk of a man as she staggered into him.
To be continued …
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A/N: Told you it was complicated. The next chapter will be posted in approximately five days. Sorry, a little R & R required.